*fooling around with husband*
Husband: Is that a piece of cheese in your bra?
Me: If you wanted any, you should have brought your own snacks!
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I hope Hell freezes over soon. A few women have promised me dates when it happens.
me: the good news is I got the job. the bad news is I have to wear a suit
her: that’s not so bad
[next day]
me: *putting on a hotdog outfit* wish me luckher: I see
“Everything I touch just turns to shit!”
– Large intestines
My trainer said that I have to stop referring to Reese Cups as protein bars
Me: I used to use baby oil so I’d fry faster in the sun, then of course the eventual peel and tan that followed
Satan: I honestly don’t know where you belong. You’re very insane.
I hate it when I’m outside & an insect lands & crawls on my glasses & for a split second I think aliens have invaded.
Watching fireworks is like listening to a kid’s story: you have to pretend to be enthralled every time, but in reality you lost interest after the first 3 minutes.
I was blinded by a goddamn deer with a shiny red nose… No, officer, I haven’t been drinking
this kangaroo looks like it smells like AXE body spray
Cat is stressing him out.
Her: How do you like your bacon?
Me: In bulk
imagine my surprise when i learned the word “briefly” does not, in fact, mean “underwearly”
My daughter just asked me how to spell bourbon so she’s either asking Santa to hook up her old man or writing a letter to child services.
Them: What’s your writing process like?
Me: Pretty intense. Very solitary. Organized. Inspired.
My writing process:
My kids asked me what people were protesting about on tv so I had to sit them down and very carefully explain that people are still angry about the horrible Mother’s Day gift they bought me.
The name “Boeing” makes so much sense now considering it’s basically the sound of something hitting the ground and bouncing.
I’m scared some kid is going to break into my house and fleek me to death with a bae
I drink because I care. About me. And drinks.
“My middle name is War-and-Peace.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story.”
My husband and I now have an app that tells us if the garage door is open or closed and this effectively gets rid of 90% of conversation during car rides.
The year 2035.
Razors now have 47 blades.
Deodorants offer 186 hour protection.
Tins of corned beef still have to be opened with that stupid little metal key.
Hubs: *Climbing ladder to put baby bird back in nest* [at my request]
*Falls off ladder*
Me: Oh my God, is the bird okay?
new career option?
My husband helped me relax by going to the store for some gift bags for my son’s upcoming birthday. He just returned victorious and presented me with a bunch of brown paper lunch sacks.
What do you call an upset reindeer?
Caribou-hoo.
*Ba-dum-tsss
[inventing the parrot]
HOW ABOUT LIKE A TYE DYE CHICKEN WHO SCREAMS ACTUAL WORDS AT YOU
*scream sings THERE GOES MY HERO*